


Five Times Dean Told Cas Watching Him Sleep Was Creepy And One Time It Wasn't

by HolmesAndNotQuiteWatson



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 5+1 fics, Canon verse, Cas watches Dean sleep, Destiel is canon, Five Times Fics, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, No Smut, Pre-Relationship, Spooning, and then
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-04
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-04-07 15:01:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4267722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolmesAndNotQuiteWatson/pseuds/HolmesAndNotQuiteWatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The title says it all. Five times Dean caught Cas watching him sleep and told him it was creepy, and one time he caught him and it wasn't creepy at all.</p><p>(Written by Holmes)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Dean Told Cas Watching Him Sleep Was Creepy And One Time It Wasn't

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by that moment in 8.10 "Torn and Frayed" where Dean catches Cas watching him sleep and says "how many times I got to tell you- it's creepy", because that sure as hell means there were other times.
> 
> Vague spoilers for 4.18, 5.16, 8.10, the end of season six, bits of  
> season seven, and parts of season nine.

1.  
The first time it happens, Dean hadn't even really realized he'd been nodding off. He and Sam had just been sharing beers and celebrating the successful one-upping of Chuck's Gospel-writing, and he must have just slipped into slumber. 

His hunter's instincts jerked him awake, aware of a third presence in the room. He'd reached for his gun and been about to fire a shot when the tan trenchcoat had finally swum into view. 

"Jeez Cas," he pants, hastily setting down the gun. He sat up. Cas was frowning again and- and it was kind of adorable, now he thought about it. Like Sammy's puppy-dog eyes. Then something occurs to him. "Cas- were you watching me sleep?"

Cas considers it for a moment. "Yes," he says eventually, "I was contemplating the consequences of your actions in regard to the Prophet."

"And how long-" Dean pushes a hand through his hair, wondering how to explain this to an angel, for Christ's sake. "You can't do that, Cas- it's weird."

When that sinks it, Cas tilts his head, confused. "Why?"

It's too early for this, Dean thinks to himself. He slumps back against the head of the bed. "I dunno, Cas, it just is."

Silence. "Would you prefer if I refrained from it in the future?"

"Yeah," Dean closes his eyes, wishing he could get back to sleep. "Please."

2.  
The second time is not long after their little trip to Heaven. Capital H "Heaven" too, complete with a garden and some batshit crazy trip down memory lane. Considering that they were almost shot in their sleep getting up skywards, Dean's a little antsy sleeping. If Walt and Roy can find them, who else can?

He's not even really asleep this time, so he sort of notices when Cas flies in. He must see that they're sleeping, cause he moves over to the armchair by Dean and takes a seat. 

Sleepily, Dean considers reprimanding him. He's about to let it slide, since he's really tired, but then Cas reaches out as if to touch Dean's hair, if the direction of his hand is any indication- and Dean bolts upright, grabbing Cas' wrist. 

"What did I say, Cas?" He growls, tongue heavy in his mouth. He releases Cas' wrist, blinking the grit out of his eyes. 

"You have not said anything yet, Dean," Cas answers seriously, "You have only just woken."

"About watching us- me sleep!"

"Oh." Cas has the decency to look embarrassed. "It is inappropriate."

"Damn right it is," Dean agrees, but swings his legs over the side of the motel bed anyway. "What brings you here so early?"

3.  
Time number three is less conventional. Dean hasn't seen Cas for weeks- friggin weeks! Every time he even bothers to wing his way down, it's to explain that he needs to get back and fight Raphael. 

The excuse is beginning to sound a little flimsy. 

Dean's been driving long haul again, trying to see if he can get to Chicago and persuade Death to help Sam with his little soul problem. Usually he'd crash in the nearest place with a vacancy, but he'd kept pushing until he'd damn near nodded off. 

Tonight, Dean fell asleep just off the highway, stretched across his baby's back seat. And it figures that Cas chose this time to not look where he's going, cause Dean finds himself with one nerdy angel (check) trying to sit on his feet. 

And he somehow didn't even notice until his feet went numb. Figures. 

He kicks up a little, squinting through the highway-lit dark. "Cas?"

"Yes, Dean?"

"Can you get off my feet?" He asks, emphasizing his point with a little kick. Cas shifts obligingly, so Dean how has his weight settled against his knees.

"Are you watching me sleep again?" Errantly, Dean wonders if Cas has ever done this without Dean noticing. He shoves the thought away, only to find it replaced with a note of how nice it feels to have Cas' unusual angelic warmth resting against his legs. 

"Yes," Cas admits, "My apologies."

Perhaps Cas, having once experienced a fall from grace, wonders what it is like to sleep. "You ever sleep, Cas?"

Unusually, Cas fidgets. He twists the hem of his trench in his grip before seemingly remembering himself and resuming the ramrod straight pose Dean knows. "Sometimes." The word is little more than a whisper, tempered with an edge of uncertainty. "I do not understand it."

Dean closed his eyes with a sigh. He's smart enough, though his GED only proves it to a point, and he knows some part of him just wants to pull Cas down onto the seat beside him. It would be impractical, of course, given that the Impala's back seat is barely built for one horizontal fully grown man, let alone two. 

But hell, he long ago acknowledged that his fuzzy little feelings for Cas are marching way past platonic and somewhere into romantic post-hunt dinner. 

"Hey Cas?" He opens his eyes, but Cas is gone. 

4.  
Sometimes Dean came back to the hospital. Cas, even full on crazy as he was, wasn't someone Dean could just leave behind. Sure, he'd done a ton of messed up shit, but, for all that it made him sound like a Disney movie, Dean didn't leave family behind. 

Meg made up a cot in Cas' room those nights. 

The first time he did it, he didn't sleep. Nor did Cas. Instead he lay on his side, eyes wide open, and watched Cas mutter to himself. 

There was something like a lump in his throat when he saw Cas like this- the raw power of a heavenly warrior degraded to this hunched figure in a hospital full of those fallen from their own purely mental grace. 

Gradually though, he began to see a certain kind of progress. Sure, the guy was still pretty messed up, but he could get his four hours, and he'd stopped thinking Dean was friggin Lucifer. 

It doesn't stop him falling asleep with one hand curled on his gun under the pillow and the other half-reaching out to Cas. 

There's a vaguely ticklish feeling on his stomach when he wakes up this time. Wondering what Cas is up to now, Dean forces his eyes open.

Cas is using Dean's stomach as a resting place for his Monopoly board. 

"S'creepy, Cas," he mumbles. He reaches out a hand, intending to shove the board off, but encounters Cas' hand instead. 

Cas' hand is warm and (just to comfort him, Dean tells himself) Dean take it in his own. Above him, Cas freezes. 

"Is it your turn?" He asks, staring uncomprehendingly at Dean's hand in his. 

"Nah, Cas," he whispers back. For a while, he watches him play Monopoly by himself, murmuring about unwise decisions and property values. 

Dean falls asleep before long, still holding Cas' hand. 

5.  
Cas is back from Purgatory, well and truly back, when Dean thought he'd spend the rest of his life hating himself for letting him stay. 

Something's off though, and undeniably so. As usual, by ten thirty Dean had decided to forget about it with a little help from a bottle of beer. 

But the thoughts would leave. He's definitely sure, at this point, that there are no ifs or buts about his feelings for Cas. They're about as fluffy and adoring as some kinda Hallmark family moment and that just makes everything Cas has done about a billion times worse. 

Every time he thinks he can trust the guy, thinks he can turn around and have a mushy feelings moment with him, something goes wrong. 

Hell, the first time it was working with Crowley. Knocking down Sam's wall. Taking it all in some freaky attempt to say sorry. And 365 days of praying morning, noon, and night in that hellhole of Purgatory to find Cas had ignored him. 

Of course something is friggin wrong with Cas again. 

Sometime around three, he falls asleep on the couch- which, at Rufus' cabin, isn't half bad- resentful and slightly drunk. 

Which doesn't help when his eyes fly open to none other than Cas standing over him, watching him again. 

In his shock he jumps, spilling his beer. Great. Just fantastic. He doesn't have to put a lot of effort into summoning some anger. 

"Damnit, Cas," he gets out, hastily checking Cas for injuries, "how many times I got to tell you- it's creepy!"

And there's definitely something up, 'cause Cas doesn't even have the decency to look sorry this time. Instead he steamrollers right in with a classic helping of "Dean, I need your aid".

And of course it's not going to be "Dean, will you help me with my tie? I tied it the wrong way round," or "Dean, can we go get some pie- Rufus seems lacking," or "Dean, will you kiss me senseless-". Yeah, he needs to stop that train of thought fast. 

"The angel Samandiriel-"

"Sam-" 

"He's been taken."

One day he'll get Cas to stop doing his whole "watching over you" thing. Or he'll just kiss him. 

One or the other. 

+1  
He can't do it. Nope. Not today, not now- not ever. 

It doesn't help that Cas is sitting there in a hoodie eating a burrito and looking like there's nowhere else he'd rather be on Earth than here. Dean isn't his father- he's not going to kick Cas out like he's nothing. 

On the other hand, his brother could die. 

"Cas, buddy," he starts slow, fists clenching and unclenching in indecision. 

"Dean," Cas returns, setting down his burrito. He turns to Dean with a smile and gets up, "is everything okay?"

And it is most decidedly not, but Dean figures if there ever was a bad time, it's now. 

Handling stuff like this at inconvenient moments seems to be a Winchester thing. 

_What the hell_ , he thinks, and takes two strides forward. Now he's barely two centimeters from Cas' nose, close enough that even the tiniest shift could bring them into contact. 

So he moves, grabs Cas' hand, and tugs him down the hallway. Cas' hand is as warm as the last time they held hands: sleepily over a one sided game of Monopoly, and Dean has no idea how he makes it down the hallway. 

The moment his door closes he's pushing Cas against its surface and finally- god damnit, _finally_ \- closing that last bit of distance. 

He does his best to be gentle, breathing into Cas' mouth, noses grazing enough to make them shiver. And then he's pressing their lips together, noting how Cas' are just a little open, still startled. At the first brush of lips, Cas freezes, and Dean instantly draws back, apologies forming. 

But before he can even get out the first syllable of sorry (like Cas set out before him as a board game, Dean's anger like a flame, walls painted white), one of Cas' hands- his right, Dean notes absently- is tangling in the hairs at the nape of Dean's neck and pulling them back together. 

At first it's clumsy: teeth clash and actual apologies are mumbled. But then they find a rhythm- drawing breaths together and Dean dares trace Cas' lower lip with his tongue. 

There's no mistaking how Cas feels about that little trick, because he gasps, hands flying to Dean's shoulders. Cas pushes Dean back, but not away; he's still kissing Dean even as he shoves him backwards onto the bed, and sit in his lap. 

As he settles himself in place, something changes. Their kisses become slower, more content. In between kisses, Dean strokes fingers through Cas' short hair, watching it spring back into place as he moves on. 

Dean can't identify it, exactly, but it's like the charged air had turned muted, sleepy and pleased. Instead of wanting to press Cas up against another wall and kiss him senseless, Dean chooses to tug them further up the bed. 

They break apart, panting, neither quite able to speak. Dean feels almost boneless with relief and happiness and can't help going in for just one more-

Gently, he arranges them so they are- and he's never telling Sam this- spooning. He wraps his arms around Cas' middle and tells himself he'll tell Cas he can't stay in the morning. 

It doesn't make him feel any better- if anything, it makes him feel worse.  
-

Just as the clock ticks over towards two, Dean wakes up. There's a dark silhouette seated beside him in bed: Cas. Propped up on one elbow in a strangely human way (he's still an angel at heart, and sometimes his mannerisms surprise Dean), he's clearly been watching Dean sleep again. 

He's less bothered this time. "Don't watch me sleep, Cas." 

Even in the dark he can tell Cas smiles at that. "You're not sleeping now," Cas whispers back. 

Dean snorts and mumbles something that sounds like "sure". Sleepily, he reaches out a hand, wrapping his fingers around Cas' wrist. He pulls until Cas surrenders and sinks back down, rolling so they're face to face. 

Carefully, Dean inches his fingers up until he's holding Cas' hand again. "Go to sleep, Cas," he says, closing his own eyes. 

He knows Cas is still watching him. 

... But it doesn't feel creepy anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the slightly rushed but ever helpful NotQuiteWatson and approved my the wonderful Dean


End file.
